


why'd you smile at me?

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: :), Gen, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: hazel has one question for alfred, and the answer is heartwrenching.
Relationships: Alfred Cheng & Hazel Wong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	why'd you smile at me?

Alfred slouched on the sofa, looking over at a sat up straight and proper Hazel Wong. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was looking over at PC Cross, who was babbling on about how he’d never solved a murder case. He grinned over at Hazel, who turned to face him. 

He could not have been more thankful for Hazel Wong. 

Hazel stood up for him, insisted that he was not the murderer, and it could’ve been the difference between life and death. They would’ve had him hung if he had been accused, because Lord knows they wouldn’t have given him a fair trial. They would’ve used the excuse that he was a foreigner over 18, and then it would’ve been straight to the gallows. 

But Hazel didn’t let that happen. 

“Well, you’re making up for it now,” Alfred smirked over at her, mouthing a very quick “thank you,” that she thankfully didn’t see.

“Alfred? May I speak to you? I won’t be but a moment, I just have a question for you,” Hazel said, her casebook in hand and her fancy glass pen in the other. 

“Of course,” he said, and she pulled him into his rooms and closed the door. “What d’you need? If it’s money, I can’t do that for you. The  _ lao wai _ cook horrid food, and so all my money’s been blown on buying actual food that won’t give me food poisoning.”

Hazel snorted and began to laugh, but her hand shot up to her mouth, as if there was something she shouldn’t find funny. 

She stood up straight and fixed him with a small smile before saying, “No, I just wanted to know this one thing. Why did you smile when PC Cross admitted that you were close to being arrested?” 

Alfred’s Cheshire Cat grin dropped. 

“It was just a smirk. I didn’t get arrested for something I didn’t do. I think I’m allowed to be relieved.”

He silently cursed himself for sounding rude. Hazel frowned slightly. 

“Why’d you smile at  _ me _ ? Why not the PC?” she recalibrated. 

“Because I owe you one, Hazel Wong. I owe you one for convincing that little white girl you run around with that I was innocent. And Mukherjee the second and his not-so-little white sidekick.”

“Who, Daisy, George and Alex?”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s the one. Not that I really care.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “Why are you so rude, Alfred?”

She didn’t sound angry. 

Just...curious.

Alfred said nothing, just looked her in the eye for a moment before patting the red leather seat next to him and beckoning for her to sit down, which she did, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her head on her knees. She looked so...small. So innocent. She reminded Alfred of himself at 14. 

“Is that truly a question you’d like the answer to, Wong Fung Ying?” he asked, and he fixed her with an intense stare of curiosity.

She nodded. “I don’t see what the harm could be, Cheng Zhi Xiang.” she smiled at him. 

“People like Chummy and Donald Melling. Racist white people, calling me this, calling me that. I was rude before, no fucking doubt about that - sorry for swearing - but they just made it worse.”

“So what caused it all? Put the Mellings aside, they’re dead now.”

“Society.” Alfred said finally. “Society and their fucking reaction to foreigners, as if looking different, looking a certain way is right and looking another way is wrong. It’s bullshit.”

“That’s fair. I won’t press you on it.”

“And death. My uncle Thomas, you heard about him, right? You were still just a kid when it happened, but I think you were back home.”

“I was, yeah. I think I was 11? You were 15, I remember your mother coming around with you in tow.”

Alfred nodded. 

“I saw him get shot. Shot dead in the street, gone just like that.” Alfred could feel the bitter pinpricks of tears. 

“I’m sorry. I know he was great. I met him once. He gave me a load of nice dresses that didn’t look like they were made for 5 year olds.” 

She smiled at the memory of a 29 year old Thomas Cheng handing her loads of dresses, the silk shining in the low, humid and bright Hong Kong sun. 

Alfred smiled crookedly. 

“You know, I haven’t actually seen another person from home in bloody ages. I’ve got Harold and Henry to keep me sane when it comes to the whites, but…”

Hazel smiled. “I get it. I’ve only seen my father in the 2 years that I’ve been here.”

He looked over at her, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying. “I wish my father would come see me.”

Wait. Why the fuck did he just say that, why did he just confide in someone?

Hazel put a hand on his. “My father would love to see you again. I know what your father’s like, and maybe it’s for the better that he never comes to see you?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Alfred responded coldly. “But a father figure wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll speak to my father. Maybe, if I can go back home, I can convince him to send you a plane ticket too.”

“You’d do that? Truly?”

She nodded, and she hugged him. Alfred hadn’t been hugged in years, and the feeling was strange. 

“I have to go now, because Daisy will probably be out looking for me. I’ll swing back up to say goodbye, though. Take care of yourself, Zhi Xiang.”

Alfred hugged his knees up to his chest, and took a deep breath. It didn’t feel weighed down. 


End file.
